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<title>So What's it Like in the Daylight? by Rawr_Its_Em</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30000405">So What's it Like in the Daylight?</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rawr_Its_Em/pseuds/Rawr_Its_Em'>Rawr_Its_Em</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Hopeful Ending, I Wrote This While Listening to Mother Mother, I wrote this as a school assignment, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Major Original Character(s), Original Character(s), References to Ancient Greek Religion &amp; Lore</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 19:42:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>939</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30000405</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rawr_Its_Em/pseuds/Rawr_Its_Em</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“You don’t know anything.”</p>
<p>“I know enough.”</p>
<p>“Oh really? What do you,” Tristan caught himself, stuttering over his words as to not swear in the girl’s presence. “What the hell do you know?” </p>
<p>“I know that you need a hug right about now.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>In which two muted lights come together to shine bright.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>So What's it Like in the Daylight?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is literally just something I wrote for English class and was told by a friend to upload it. The prompt in English was 'Write a story about two people from very different backgrounds' and I had to push it out in an hour. I couldn't proofread this stupid work.</p>
<p>Please be safe when reading!!! There is referenced abuse and alcoholism in this story!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You don’t know anything.”</p>
<p>“I know enough.”</p>
<p>“Oh really? What do you,” Tristan caught himself, stuttering over his words as to not swear in the girl’s presence. “What the hell do you know?” </p>
<p>“I know that you need a hug right about now.”</p>
<p>Friday’s were always a joy. The hushed whispers of tired students and exhausted workers returning to their waiting families dancing through the night. Late night parties or relaxing movies being the only events that held place on those sacred days. It was almost a sin to not find joy on those days. Abigail found herself to be one of those that enjoyed these days. The days where she could recline and refresh. </p>
<p>Friday’s were always hell. A continuous spiral of torture. The hurt, the pain, the anger would all mix together on these days as if Ares had taken refuge in the heads of those unfortunate enough to feel alive on this day. Tristan found himself hating this day, the day the underworld itself would rise. Constant headaches, heartaches, torture; Friday’s would always eat away at the void in his soul. If God had worked this day, Tristan wished God had worked on tidying up the beer bottles instead. </p>
<p>Finding herself leaning into the touch of smooth leather, Abigail abruptly stood. While she wanted to relax, become engulfed in the feeling more, she knew it was better to socialise. After all, the entire weekend was ahead of her. Brushing golden locks behind her ear, the pep in her step pushed her from the luxury of her home. Friday’s were a night for parties, clubs and friends. Dionysus’ list was open for everybody and Abigail was determined to join. Placing a heeled shoe onto the pavement below, the girl shone a smile brighter than the night’s stars. Tonight was going to be a good night.</p>
<p>Fear loomed over Tristan’s frail body. Echoing screams from his own mind racing at his every vulnerability. Being stuck at home was what made Friday’s all the more painful. Tristan could take the constant memories and muted screams that plagued his mind, the reality of it made Tristan all the more fragile, however. There was no break. Why would there be? It was clear that darkness plagued his reality; it was clear that nothing was right here. And so of course, his father ruled as if he was Thanatos himself. Tristan would make sure to avoid his Mount Vesuvius.</p>
<p>Taking refuge in his worn sneakers, Tristan paid no mind to the hole that his big toe peeked out from, instead taking advantage of the drunken state his father has fallen into. Dropping silent steps onto the pavement below him, Tristan buried himself in thoughts of where to go next, mindlessly exploring the world that was so foreign to him. Idle in his own head, the boy just walked, continuing to march to the beating heart in his chest. Tonight was going to be another awful night. </p>
<p>Bruises littered his skin, Abigail could see that from a mile away. The purple and blue fading into coarse skin. Abigail managed to hold back her giggle, comparing the boy to a turtle as she watched him stride past. Unfortunately, the horror of that thought surfaced as quickly as the thought itself came. A light gasp mixed into the chilling breeze that flowed from the cloth covering her body to the skin she works so hard to protect. A ruffian, thug, or maybe just misunderstood? Abigail couldn’t place it. He just looked so...broken as if a slave to his own thoughts. The boy continued trudging down the pavement, brown hair falling in front of glassy eyes. </p>
<p>Tristan continued to let his feet scrape across the smooth concrete. Being out of the house was one thing, having something to do was another luxury that he had yet to discover. Nothing was perfect in his eyes though, everything had a danger. Maybe he was safer being a husk of his former self, but then again, Tristan had stopped caring long ago. Turning his head as the wind hit his face, the student locked eyes with what he could only describe as a princess. Stunning as she was, Tristan could analyse every flaw. The almost too soft skin blessing her form, she’d never suffered. The thick blonde hair that protected her scalp, she’d never fended for herself. The obnoxiously bright dress caressing her torso, and Tristan knew she’d never worried. She had no care, it was obvious. </p>
<p>Locking eyes, the two shared a huff. So close, only a road apart, and yet they fell on opposite sides of the world. It was awkward to say the least, the silence engulfing their bodies and souls before only the most beautiful tore through the layers. “You don’t look too good, I can tell that from over here.”</p>
<p>Tristan scoffed, caught on his words as cracked lips parted in the slightest. “You don’t know anything. </p>
<p>“I know enough.” Abigail’s eyes shot a glare, feelings rising that she’d never experienced before. Anger? Worry? Maybe both. It was new.</p>
<p>“Oh really? What the,” Tristan caught himself, promising not to curse the presence of such an innocent spirit. “What the hell do you know?”</p>
<p>“I know that you need a hug. And I know that I’m more than happy to supply.”</p>
<p>Friday’s were always confusing. The deafening conversations between strangers and the blossoming between new friendships. They were on different sides of the world, one tortured in Tartarus and the other blissful in Elysium. Hermes, however, was merciful. Maybe, just maybe, over time Friday’s would become the new Heaven in this world of hell.</p>
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